Listen
by muggleborn.dragon.ryder
Summary: Jim Hawkins is happy. Eighteen years old, graduating from Interstellar Academy as a top student, surrounded by family and friends, the boy couldn't be happier. But the ceremony sets off an unexpected chain of events leading to seeing the two people he thought he never would again: Silver...and his father. Rated T just in case. Title might be changed later.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Leave Me Alone**

**Okay, so this is my new Treasure Planet fic! :D I hope it's up to snuff. At least I'm better at Treasure Planet than I am at Rise of the Guardians... **

* * *

Packed building, smiling faces. Tripping a bit over my gown, but regaining my balance. Each of us trying to strut confidently, trying to make it up to the stage to receive our diploma in an orderly and controlled manner. Trying to pretend we're mature.

The truth of our nervousness is written all over our faces, but nobody seems to care. I can see my mom in the crowd, I can see her smiling fit to burst as I wait, playing with my hands, staring at the people beginning to file out, waiting for my name to be called. I can see B.E.N beside her, his grin maybe a bit wider, although I really don't know how that's possible. Beside him, there's Morph who keeps floating around, shifting into me in my gown and squealing in excitement.

In the row behind them, there's Delbert and Amelia, both smiling slightly. Neither of them look nearly as excited as the people of the row in front, but then, I'm pretty sure they're both looking more forward to when the ceremony is over. I wouldn't blame them. I'm looking forward to the moment when my name is called.

Actually, to be precise, I'm looking forward to a few moments after that, because I'm getting nervous and I have butterflies in my stomach. I'm forced to sit there, playing with my hands as they call out what feel like a million other names before mine.

"Alex Gray!"

Alex hops off the stage and perfects that confident strut all the others are trying for, reaching out a hand. They release his diploma. They let him file quietly to the back of the room. My stomach clenches as I wait for my own name.

Another name is called, but my ears have gone strangely blocked, and I can't hear the name they just called. I shoot my gaze around, scanning the crowd again. I'm not even sure who I'm looking for.

"James Hawkins!"

My feet carry me forward. I trip down the steps and land on my knees. I know I should feel embarrassed, especially because the crowd gives a sympathetic titter, but I'm numb and my ears are ringing. I'm already on my feet again by the time I've registered that my body reacted before I did; my cheeks are hot, and I'm sure they're bright red.

My walk is not a strut. Alex Gray could probably have done better, but my legs won't quit carrying me forward. They make me stumble and trip, but I really don't care. This is almost over, almost done with. I'm really close.

I reach the principal, I meet his eyes. I even manage a bit of a smile as he hands me the diploma.

He pats me affectionately on the shoulder, kind of smiling. I nod at him and I practically run away, safely reaching the back of the room. Are my legs shaking? I think they are. I lean against the wall, staring up at the stage, but my mind is far from it now that I've made my journey.

* * *

The rest of the ceremony kind of passes in a blur. I know I stand at the back of the room and blink a lot, but I'm still not entirely sure what happens. I know I trip over my own feet ten times at least. I know that, at the end of the ceremony, the families swarm each other. And I know that, as my own family comes to join me, I think I see somebody I recognize slipping out the door, a strangely familiar black coat whipping out of sight.

I freeze, staring as the others come to join me. My grin slowly fading from my face, I wait for them, forcing a lie about how I thought I'd just seen one of my friends and how I really, really needed to talk to him. It isn't exactly a lie.

When they nod and peel off to get refreshments, I assume, I run off in the direction of the black coat, peering around. When the man appears in front of me again, my heart jumps into my throat. _Silver?! _

"S-silver," I stutter, taking a step forward. Why is my voice so quiet, and why am I suddenly nervous about seeing him? It's only been three years. Why should I be nervous?

And then the man turns, and it isn't him, and I let my hand drop to my side. Silver coming to see me graduate – yeah right.

But the black coat reminded me of that voyage three years ago. I haven't thought about that in such a long time. I lean against the wall for a second as the memories fill my head. Silver instructing me to wash the deck, me yelling at him when he talked about not letting me out of his sight. Silver and I standing at the stern, him smoking a pipe. Telling me it wasn't my fault. Me falling against him, him telling me I had the makings of greatness. Telling me I was going to rattle the stars someday.

_This is me rattling the stars as much as I can, _I think to myself, staring up at the speckled, black ceiling. _I just wish he was here to see this._

There comes a rough tap on my shoulder, and I turn to look at who's pulled me out of my reverie.

The older man looks familiar, but I couldn't place it at first glance. He reaches up and slowly brushes my hair out of my eyes for me, so I could see him better.

Touch has always made me uncomfortable, and I shudder slightly as his fingernails skim my head. I reach up to gently bat his hand away.

He lets it drop before I reach him, but he whispers, "James," so quietly I think he's speaking to himself.

"Yes," I nod. "That's…um…that's me." I offer him a smile. What do I do? Should I be formal, or not? He seems to know me…what do I do?

"James, I…" he hesitates. "I just wanted to see you again. And I wanted to ask—

And then his voice becomes familiar to me, way too familiar and suddenly I think I know who I'm looking at, only I won't say it. I just stand there, staring at him, trying to decide for myself if it's him or not.

"And I wanted you to know I'm sorry," he finishes solemnly, taking my hand and gripping it very tightly. He looks at me pleadingly, like he expects I'll feel sorry for him and tell him it's okay, but I won't. He left me and my mother on our own for six years. How in the hell could that ever be okay?

"Get away from me."

"James," he whispers, "I would like to get to know you again."

I give a short, humorless laugh. But I have to stop, because I think if I look at him any longer, I'm going to cry. "Again? When did you ever know me?"

And then I turn and start walking away, my heart pounding furiously in my chest, not from nervousness or fear, but from anger. I am not afraid of my father, but I am not interested in getting to know him. The only thing I'm interested in doing when it comes to him is staying as far away from him as possible at any given time.

"James, please give me a chance," he's breathing heavily as he attempts to keep pace with me, but I don't slow down. I turn to look at him once more, telling myself my eyes aren't wet. But they are, and somehow I don't think I'm going to cry because I'm upset. If I cry here, I'm going to cry angry tears, angry and frustrated tears, because why the hell can't he just leave me alone?

"I'm not interested in giving you a chance," I reply shortly. "In fact, I'd be a lot more interested in giving you a chance if maybe you had, I don't know, _stayed_?"

He winces. He takes a breath.

_Good, _I think angrily to myself. _I've hurt him, and made him angry, and maybe this will make him see that I don't need him. All I need from him is for him to leave me alone._

"I know it was wrong," he says quietly. "But I really do want to get to know you again. Is that so wrong?"

"I don't really care about whether what you want to do right now is right or wrong," I respond. "All I care about is that you leave me the hell alone. I have no interest in talking to you again, alright? Back off."

"James, please—

"You left us!" I manage to spit out. It comes out louder than I intend. I can sense people staring. "You left us, and now you want to come back here and screw everything up again? Leave me alone."

"Give me a chance."

"I gave you one!" Am I shouting? Is my voice rising? Are people really staring, or is that just my imagination? Right now, I really don't care. "I _gave_ you a chance back when I was a kid! Guess what, you blew it. You must not have cared that much about it back then, so why do you now?"

"James…" he spread his hands wide, like he had no explanation. "I've been thinking about it a lot lately, and I've begun to realize what a mess I've made and—

"Save it." I snap. "You left us, okay? Nothing can make up for what you did. Just leave me alone."

I'm pretty sure I'm stalking out of the building by this point. Should I wait for the others? I don't know. I don't care. All I know is every step takes me farther away from my father. And right now, that's really all I want.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Shaken Up **

**A/N: ****SURPRISE**

**Yes, this is the surprise. Updating all of my eighteen in-progress fics at once. It was pretty crazy, but I did it, and it's here, and good day to you all! I had tons of fun doing this, so I hope you guys have tons of fun reading this!**

**Anyway, this chapter is just okay. I struggled with it for so long, but just ughhhhhhh **

* * *

I'm shaking, shaking like mad all over, and I'm running as fast as I can through the empty streets, out of the parking lot. There are no solar sails on the streets; everybody's still at Interstellar Academy, celebrating with the new graduates. A part of me wishes I could still be celebrating with them, but I know I can't go back now. I can't go back there and face him again.

I don't even connect the dots to my family – I don't think of telling them I'm going, or anything, I'm just running. I feel my breath catching in my throat, catching in my chest, making me feel like I'm suffocating, like I can't breathe. But I don't stop running, because I need to get as far away from my father as I possibly can.

I skid to a stop and catch my breath, leaning against a chain-link fence and letting my eyes roam the yard and house behind the fence. The fence is broken and rusty, practically crumbling to dust in my hands. The dirty yellow house overrun by ivy and weeds gives me an odd feeling – almost like there's something lurking here that I don't want to see. I hold onto the side of the fence for a second longer, bending down, struggling to catch my breath and a face appears at the cracked window. I only see half of it, because the other half is hidden by the wall, but I can see that the man glaring out at me is scarred and tanned and clearly furious with me, possibly for touching his fence. I instantly release the spiky metal top, but I meet his eye, even though his gaze feels cold and harsh and unfriendly.

I keep waiting for him to look away, to walk away from the window and forget about a dumb kid, but he only does that when the front door opens. His face disappears as a stranger steps out onto the front lawn, his shuffling gait strangely familiar. He glances up at me once and then turns away again, but in that quick glance, I thought I saw a flash of bright red.

And then he does a double-take, and I see that flash of red again, even under the wide-brimmed, black hat he wears. This isn't the man who stood at the window, I realize as recognition floods me. There's only one person I have ever met with a laser eye like that and I scramble forward almost at once, pushing aside the door of the chain-link fence in my haste. "Silver." The word is barely above a whisper and my tone doesn't even begin to express the sudden excitement I feel. It's been three years since I've seen him, yet I've thought about him every day since, and I would recognize him anywhere.

He pulls his hat down lower over his eyes. "What are ya doin' here, Jimbo?" He doesn't sound nearly as pleased as I feel; rather gruff and hoarse and unwelcoming. "You need to leave, now."

I draw back for a moment, staring at him. "But…but it's you! You've been gone three years, I can't just see you again and then be expected to—

"Alright, we can talk, but…" he throws an edgy glance at the dirty yellow house behind him. The face has appeared in the window again, watching us. "Not here, alright? Not here. Let's get a bit away from here first."

He doesn't wait for my consent; he grabs my arm and practically drags me away, tearing his gaze away from the house but muttering darkly under his breath all the same. We finally reach the open streets, which look pretty deserted, but I guess Silver doesn't want to take the chance that he might be spotted, because he plunges into the trees, crashing through a path that he obviously knows well.

"Silver," I call breathlessly, struggling to keep up, "where are you taking me? Can you slow down?"

"Shh!" He pulls me to the ground suddenly, shoving me down so I get a mouthful of grass. He obviously expects somebody to come hurtling out of the trees at us, but there's no sound apart from the distant twittering of birds and insects buzzing in the still summer air. A light breeze passes by, ruffling my hair and the grass I'm crouched in.

"Right." Silver takes to his feet again and hauls me up. "Sorry, Jimbo. Keep it down, okay?"

"But why?" I demand, lowering my voice to a whisper. "What's going on? Everybody's at the Interstellar graduation ceremony…I think. Except for that guy standing at the window." An odd shiver sneaks up my spine at the thought. "And you," I add.

"We're bein' followed," Silver replies grimly. "Or we could be, anyway. They're after me, lad, and it's no good hangin' 'round me on a day like this, when I've been out and about."

"After you?" I repeat in surprise. "But I haven't seen a wanted poster of you for a year, and the police gave up their search like seven months ago. They might still have some officers on the case, but—

"I'm not talkin' about the police," he interrupts gruffly. "I'm…well, to be honest, Jimbo, ya caught me at a bad time."

"But I well…I can't time these things!" I say indignantly, and I'm pleased to see that he keeps leading me through the woods, deeper and deeper. We emerge into a clearing, surrounded by trees on all side, sprawling green, overgrown grass growing up around the tiny wooden hut perched precariously on the tiny knoll.

He fixes his laser eye upon every side of the clearing before he appears satisfied. "C'mon, then, Jimbo, come in, quick. They could still be waitin' out there." He grabs me by the sleeve again, starting to drag me, but I pull out of his grip quickly enough to avoid that. He walks right up to the tiny wooden hut, raps upon the door once, and it swings open with a creak.

The interior is dark, damp and musty. There doesn't seem to be a floor, not from what I can see; just a kind of hardened carpet that makes a crunching noise whenever I step on it.

"Is this…is this where you're living?" I turn slowly on the spot, trying to take in everything I can about the dirty hut.

"I've been in worse places," Silver replies gruffly, apparently taking my tone for disgust or fear.

"No, there's nothing wrong with it," I assure him quickly, following him out of the foyer and into what appears to be a dining area. "I'm just surprised is all. What are you doing on Montressor again? I didn't think you'd be back."

"Like ya said, the police have quit lookin' for me," he responds dismissively, collapsing heavily in a seat at the kitchen table and fiddling with his cyborg leg. "I just thought it'd be nice to come back here." Something in his voice hints at a deeper reason.

"What have you been doing since you left the first time? Where did you go?" The questions fly from my mouth before I can stop them, it feels. I hover slightly away from the table until he indicates for me to take a seat.

"I haven't been doing anything interesting," Silver says evasively, which isn't like him at all. Normally, he'd be breaking his neck to tell me of all the wild fights he's had since we last saw each other. "And I went south for a bit, to one of the neighboring planets. I couldn't go back to the spaceport, obviously, they knew me there, so I had to find a new place."

"And if it's such a bad place, what were you doing at that house?" I lean forward slightly in my seat, making him scowl.

"He's an old friend, that man is. I thought, so long as I was here, I may as well catch up with him." But he's avoiding my eye as he talks, and he changes the subject quickly. "Anyway! I heard ya graduated from Interstellar Academy!" His secretive manner disappears in an instant and he's back to the beaming, confident spacer I used to know.

"Oh. Yeah, I did." His words make me remember what happened, what caused me to leave the ceremony early. "Today, in fact."

"I told ya," he surveys me with unmistakable pride, and it feels suddenly like we're back on the ship bound for Treasure Planet, and that no time at all has passed. "I told ya, I said that ya were gonna rattle the stars someday. And here ya are."

I force a little smile, but I drop my gaze rather quickly back to the table. I don't want to think about my graduation.

It turns out I don't have to, because the instant I fall silent again, I remember the dirty yellow house and the strangely dark look he threw over his shoulder at it. I want to ask more, but I know better; he's not going to tell me the truth, no matter how many times I ask.

"So, how was it there?" Silver asks, resting an elbow on the table and leaning towards me.

I shrug noncommittally, unwilling to think too much about it. "Uneventful. You should know."

"Nah, I never graduated meself," he shrugs. "Interstellar wasn't even a thought in anyone's head until I was about twenty…and then they began building it a few years later, but…" he trails off for a moment, gazing into space, evidently lost in thought.

"So, what happened to you?" I don't want to lose him to some fond reminisce.

"Eh?" He asks, apparently still in the vein of Interstellar.

"You know, when you went south. What did you do?"

"Pirate things," he responds vaguely. "The usual illegal mumbo-jumbo, nearly got caught twice, but luckily I was wanted for a much smaller crime on that planet than I am on this one – I wasn't too worried about that."

I know this makes Silver look bad, but honestly, I'm not surprised that he's wanted on other planets, too. "What did you do there?"

"A bit of thieving," he replies mysteriously. "Nothing big. What have you been doing these past three years? Staying out of trouble, I _don't_ think." But he appears even prouder of this than of the news that I graduated from Interstellar.

"When have I ever done otherwise?" I quote his parting line back at him, and he grins widely.

"Considering how many times you nearly got killed, I wouldn't exactly be saying that if I were you," Silver tells me.

I shrug, but not in an apologetic manner. I couldn't help half those times, anyway.

"So…" Silver glances down at the table for a split second. "Can I ask why you're still in your graduation get-up, Jimbo?"

I look down at myself in surprise; I didn't even notice I was still wearing the black gown. I shrug it off, but I don't discard it on the table or floor; the place is too dirty to leave this anywhere. I scrunch it into a ball on my lap and trace the white lines with my pinkie before realizing I haven't answered.

"Um…I was in a hurry."

Silver watches me for a second before grabbing a pipe out of his long black coat and lighting it, placing it carefully in his mouth. "Okay," he shrugs. "You don't have to talk if you don't want to." Maybe he hears something deeper in my voice, too.

For some reason, these words, the ease with which he lets me off the hook, makes me want to tell him even more. Before really thinking it through, I'm spilling everything that happened, probably taking a longer time than need be, because I keep pausing as I recall the story myself.

Silver's eyebrows are going higher and higher and, when I draw to a close, they've practically disappeared beneath his black hat. "Your _father_ showed up at your graduation? Your father came _back_?"

I nod uncertainly. I don't know what to expect from him – anger, surprise – I guess I don't know him well enough.

Anger is the one he chooses. He looks ready to spit venom and when he speaks, his voice is acidic. "He came all the way up there and ruined your graduation ceremony just to tell you he wants to have a relationship with you? He's up to something."

"I don't know," I shrug. "He seemed pretty sincere, I mean, he just kept saying how sorry he was—

"And you believed that? Jimbo, the only time anybody ever apologizes is to save their own skin! Especially a man like that! Why would he come all the way down, just to face and own up to all the mistakes he's made? There's no way he means it."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Intentions **

**A/N: Um. Yes. Hi. Sorry for abandoning this fic, but my heart lies with HTTYD. Also, I'm sick so try not to hate me too much. Updates on this story aren't frequent or set to come at certain dates, so I probably won't post again until January or February. Basically, if you're a reader of my RotG or TP stuff, prepare yourselves for long waits. I'm not as into these as I am into HTTYD, although I do intend to rewatch Treasure Planet soon :3 I love that movie. People were actually talking about what they'd change about it and I was like, um, nothing? Honestly, I do not have the skill level to remake that movie and make it any better than it was xD Oh, also, Silver and Jim are OOC. Ignoreee thatttt. And ignore Jim having a phone. I wasn't sure what they'd use for communication devices on Montressor, so I just decided it'd be a really fancy phone. **

* * *

I know that it's stupid, but I can't help feeling a little flash of hurt when Silver finishes off his rant. I know that I'd already decided that my father didn't deserve a second chance, and I've gotten over the pain of his rejection, but to have Silver state it so blatantly, just put it out there that he probably doesn't care and just wants to get on my good side to use me…well, it does hurt. A lot, actually.

But then again, now that Silver has said something, I feel incredibly stupid for believing for one second that my father regretted his actions. Why would he want a relationship with me anyway? What, he misses me, maybe? Yeah, not.

I guess my emotions must show on my face, because Silver quickly relaxes his scowl and mumbles something that I don't catch. Pushing away the thoughts of my father, I straighten in my seat. "Well, I told you what's happened to me, so now it's your turn." Personally, I'm kind of hoping for a better explanation about that man at the window, but at the same time, the chill of hatred that I got from him was so powerful that I'm hoping he won't.

Silver frowns. "That was not what's happened to you," he corrects, "that was a weak summary. You have not done nothing but graduate in the last three years."

"Well, it's all I've done that I'm going to share with you right now," I scoot closer to the table and am about to prop my elbows on it when I realize how dirty the table is, and tuck my elbows in closer to my sides instead.

To my surprise, the shadow of a smile crosses Silver's face – it's the most cheerful expression he's made thus far, so I feel encouraged. "You haven't changed a bit, have ya, Jimbo?" He sounds remarkably proud of this fact. "Still as stubborn as I remember. Alright, then, since you're determined to drag something out of me…" He leans closer to me across the table. "Well, for one, I learned that ya can't trust women." He holds up one finger on his cyborg hand, and then another as he starts in on something else. "That the police on—

"What do you mean, you can't trust women?" There seems to be a story here that he's reluctant to share.

"We meet, we dine," he slams a hand down on the table for emphasis, "I compliment her, I flatter her, I give her wine, I do everything for her, and she hears of my criminal record, and she's out of there like a cork and a bottle! You'd think I was wanted for murder, not just thievery! Women these days…" he trails off darkly. "You can't trust any of them."

Sympathy is probably the right emotion here, but instead, I have to bite my lip to keep from grinning. Maybe it's the fact that Silver really doesn't seem that upset by it, or the fact that it's just so him, to do something like that and then complain about it, unable to believe that a woman is allowed to get scared off due to criminal records.

"Anyway," Silver waves this story away with his cyborg hand before moving on. "For another, I learned that the police on Stroatis are a lot harsher than they are here – they were prepared to have me put on the executioner's block if I hadn't escaped!" he huffs in obvious annoyance. "But that's not important anymore, I suppose."

Now that he's started talking, though, he seems reluctant to stop, so I give him a nudge in the right direction. "And…that man at the window? Where do you know him from?"

The glare Silver gives me is enough to let me know that I've overstepped, big time, but I don't back down – I just raise my eyebrows hopefully, waiting for him to explain something to me.

"That's nothing, Jimbo," he says gruffly, looking down at his cyborg hand. "I ran across him in my quest for Treasure Planet, it's nothing." But his real hand is clenched into a fist and I know that whatever it is, it is so much more than nothing.

"I'm serious," he raises his voice a little, like he used to do when we were on the voyage for Treasure Planet and I'd done something wrong, or I was challenging him. "Drop it. It's not important. What's been going on with you?"

I can tell he only asked so I'd forget about the man at the window, but I give him the barest amount of details, mostly skimming over everything to do with Interstellar Academy.

"And the inn?" he tilts his head, and his broad-brimmed hat threatens to tip entirely off his head. He straightens it hastily as he talks. "Your mother's inn, how's it doing?"

I lift one shoulder in a sort of shrug. "Business is good."

"Business is good," he repeats, nodding. He can feel the awkwardness descending on us, created by the fact that I know he's hiding something, and he won't just tell me what it is. "Does your mother know you're here, Jimbo?"

"Oh." I think back to the graduation ceremony. Come to think of it, I did just take off without telling anybody where I was going. "No, but she won't care. I'll make up some excuse."

Something in Silver's gaze seems to harden, and his laser eye fixes on me sternly. I knew I should have lied.

"You should go." His words are curt, his voice short and brusque. "You're missing your own graduation ceremony, I…I shouldn't have let that happen. I don't know what I was thinking, but you should go—

"I don't want to go." I try to make my voice as defiant as I can. It doesn't come as easily as it used to, but it comes. "I don't want to go back there, Silver." I don't want to go back there and face my father, and maybe something in my voice tips Silver off, because that hard laser gaze seems to soften, just a little bit.

"You ought to at least drop your mother a…a phone call or something, so she won't worry."

Privately, I'm wondering when Silver started caring whether my mom worried or not, but I don't say anything. I just nod. "Yeah, I'll give her a call."

"I mean now," he stands up from the table, leaving no room for arguments.

Come to think of it, I don't even know if I have my phone on me. I pat the pockets of my jeans, but there's nothing there except a candy wrapper and I don't even remember when I put that there. I fish it out and examine it for a second, while Silver watches and waits for me to pull out a phone.

"I must have left it at home," I tell him, after stuffing the candy wrapper back in my pocket (the last time I had that candy was three weeks ago, so I'm starting to wonder if I actually got these jeans washed).

"I thought situations like these were what phones were invented _for_," he replies, not like he doesn't believe me or anything, more like he's exasperated that I left it.

"Well, I didn't intend to leave graduation," I say. _I didn't intend to see my father again either. _"I didn't bring my phone because everyone I have in my contacts was going to be there, so I assumed I wouldn't need it."

"Regardless," Silver puts his hands palm down on the table, one flesh and one metal. "You oughta go, Jimbo – like I said earlier, today…is not a good day. Go on."

Realizing that the conversation and brief visit is over, I reluctantly stand. "Tomorrow? Can I see you tomorrow?" I know that probably sounds pushy or whiny or needy or clingy, but I haven't seen him in three years. And I've really, really missed him. A half hour is not enough to make up for the time that we've been apart.

He hesitates, his mouth curling down at the corners. "That might not be the best idea. We'll talk some other time – go on, Jimbo. Go rejoin your graduation."

So I turn and walk out of the dark, dirty house, only my head is swirling with so many thoughts and my feet don't want to take me back to my graduation, and risk running into my father. I know the path from Interstellar to the inn by heart by now, so I don't depend on my mom or anyone else to get me back home when I've finished brooding.

And I know, even though I don't like to admit it, that that's exactly what I'm doing. I figure I'll rejoin the graduation in a little while, but for the time being, my father and Silver are clouding up space in my mind, and I need to be alone to think about them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Acts of Business**

**A/N: That last sentence makes it sound a little like Jim's gonna find out Silver's dating that guy or something xD this is NOT a SilverXOC. This isn't a SilverX anyone, to be honest. Not even Jim, though I know tons of people ship it. That's not my style. If it's romantic, cool, but I prefer the father/son thing they had going on in canon. Oh, also, I know I mention Jim flipping the Bennbow Inn's sign to 'closed', and that normally inns stay open all night, but in my opinion, as it's just Jim and Sarah there, I imagine that they probably close up every night, probably late. I mean, with only two people there, they kind of have to, right? Anyway. Rambles. Here ya go. Sorry for the wait, I'll try not to do that next time. **

* * *

Walking leaves too much time to think.

I can't believe I actually wanted time to think when I left Silver's…house? Trailer park? Really, it's tiny enough to be the latter. Now that I've walked around a little bit and solar sails are beginning to pour out into the streets again, I start wondering if anybody's noticed my absence. Before I went on that voyage to Treasure Planet, everybody was glad to be rid of me at the inn. A day that I didn't help out always seemed to mean more customers, but sometimes the work got to be too much for Mom to handle all by herself.

Really, I don't know how my family is going to react when I go back to Interstellar Academy. They probably won't even have noticed I'm gone. Then again, maybe I'm just making excuses for myself. There is the chance that Mom will be worried; but I just don't want to go there right now. I don't want to face them. I want to be alone. I have so much to think about still, yet at the same time, thinking is the last thing I want to do. My father's face flickers to the forefront of my mind, his mouth pouring useless, worthless apologies.

I don't want to think about it. I don't even know what to say. My mom has finally healed from what he did to her. How can I tell her…?

No. No, I can't tell her anything. On the off chance that he didn't try talking to her, too, (and just the thought makes my blood boil) then I'm going to keep quiet about it. My mom, at least, has finally let go of my dad. I refuse to be the one to dredge all that stupid stuff about him up again.

My decision made, I start heading for Interstellar, my hand clenched into a fist in my pocket, my graduation gown still in a crumpled ball in my other hand. When the building comes into view, its high rooftops practically obscuring the sky, I exhale slowly, one long, deep sigh. When I was standing on that stage in the bright spotlights, waiting for my name to be called, I couldn't imagine being happier. Now, I'm just confused and miserable. Seeing Silver again was amazing, but he just keeps being so vague, and deliberately evasive when I try to ask him questions…and why did he come to Montressor? You'd think he'd choose a planet he's not wanted on! But he's avoiding all my questions about that, too.

I quicken my pace to a jog as I reach the parking lot, taking off the graduation hat as I go, spotting my family standing in the parking lot. My mom looks pale and anxious, and BEN appears to have fried a circuit or two in worry.

"James Pleades Hawkins!"

It's been a long time since she's seen reason to call me by my full name. I inwardly cringe, practically tiptoeing over to the group. "Um…yes?"

"Where did you _go_?" She grabs me into a bone-crushing hug, so tight I can barely breathe. "I couldn't find you, and you hadn't let anyone know you were leaving…we thought something might have _happened_ to you! You can't just walk away without telling us!"

"I…I'm sorry—

"Where were you?" Amelia cuts right to the point. She's not the type for those breath-quenching hugs that my mom is. She just wants to know what happened.

"I…you know celebrations aren't my scene." Three years ago, if you'd asked me to lie to somebody, I probably could have done it without flinching, but this time, I stutter a little, pointedly avoiding my mother's eye as I speak. I'm a little rusty, as I've been trying to quit lying lately. But what do you expect me to do? I can't tell my mom what happened. If word ever got out that Dad was back in town…

It feels like a block of ice just slid into the pit of my stomach, slowly freezing me from the inside out. I'm lying to her for absolutely no reason. People on Montressor talk, especially people at the Bennbow Inn. Exactly how am I going to keep this quiet? And when Mom finds out, she really will kill me, for not telling her when I should have. She'll be devastated to hear about it, and then she'll be angry, no, furious. She'll yell at me, scare off customers in her anger, and then she might go looking for him. And she'll be furious with him, too.

But I…I can't tell her. I've already gone missing on her, and I think that's enough excitement for the day. I'll…I'll tell her tomorrow.

Maybe she sees something in my face, because she actually pauses in her scolding. "Jim?"

"Yes?" I pretend I've been listening this whole time, and not totally spacing out and thinking about my father.

"Are you okay, honey?"

"Yes." I've already ruined today for her. I'm not ruining it any more thoroughly.

She frowns, maybe confused. Maybe she knows I'm not telling her something. But whatever her current emotions, she starts back in on her rant. "As I was saying, you're eighteen years old. This was the height of irresponsibility, and I've told you a million times, don't wander off unless you at least let me know first, that's all I ask of you, and that's only so I won't worry…!"

* * *

It feels good to flip the sign from 'OPEN' to 'CLOSED'. We're closing early tonight, as Mom didn't want to make me work on graduation, which is good because I didn't want to work on graduation. Things have been a little uncomfortable between us since I disappeared on her during graduation – the ride home was all kinds of awkward – but she seems to have forgotten about it again. Running the inn takes a lot out of her. It takes a lot out of me, too, to be honest. It's hard to keep all the customers happy and make sure every dish gets served on time. Things have gotten easier since we hired BEN to wait tables, but it's still pretty tight around here.

And what feels even better than closing up for the night is finally being able to get to my room. I didn't want to think earlier, but when all I want to do is think, everyone suddenly needs me for something. I've finally found a free moment, but I can't even make sense of half the things that happened today.

My dad came back, that's at the forefront of my mind. He came back with most likely ulterior motives, and Silver certainly thinks so. Silver…my mind drifts back to that ridiculous cyborg. Why can't he just tell me what's going on? I'm going to find out eventually. I'm a lot smarter than he remembers, and it's kind of insulting that he thinks I won't figure it out just because he's avoiding my questions.

First act of business, though? Sleep.

Tomorrow I'll take care of the second act of business, which is going back to that yellow house. Maybe I can figure out the guy's last name, at least. If I've got a last name, I've got at least a slight lead. I just need to know more about him, and find out why Silver's visiting him. Because, whatever he says, he and that man in the yellow house are not friends. I know it.

I just have to find out what they are.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Shard of Me **

**A/N: Oh my gosh guys D: I am SO SO sorry I didn't update for so longgggg I know I said my heart lies with HTTYD in...chapter...3, I think? But tbh that's no excuse, so I'm really sorry. I recently saw Treasure Planet again, and realized I'd forgotten how much I loved it, and I had to write something for it, so I ended up accidentally penning the first two chapters of _Permit Me a Father Fantasy_, and I just really really dislike this story now. I mean, I am extremely and unreasonably proud of the plot. I feel like I thought up an original plot. But my portrayal of the characters just makes me cringe. Especially Silver. Like. Just. Somebody stop me. I'm terrible at keeping Silver IC ;-; So, I want everybody reading this to just forget the first four chapters. Completely. I'm not rewriting them, because frankly, I'm too lazy, but if you're having trouble remembering what happened in this story previously because I'm a goddamn piece of shit and can't ever keep myself on a schedule, then a quick recap, so you don't have to reread the horridness: **

_**Jim's father showed up at Jim's graduation from Interstellar, and it upset Jim so much that he just took off without bothering to tell anyone where he was. When he left, though, he ended up seeing this creepy guy in a yellow house, and it gave him a weird feeling, but that's a story for a different chapter. He also witnessed Silver walking out of the yellow house, and they talked for about an hour or so, basically catching up on each other's lives. Silver was acting strange, though, and acted sort of distant. Jim wants to see him again, but he displays reluctance at the idea, and sends Jim on his way. Jim goes back to Interstellar to find his family slightly frazzled over his absence; we then see Jim going up to his bedroom after flipping the sign in the inn's window from open to closed. **_

* * *

_This must be what zombies feel like._

Ordinarily, I enjoy watching the sunrise. The warm golden rays of dancing light falling in patches on my bedroom floor has always created a feeling within me that I could never explain; kind of like the whole day is mine, and I can do whatever I want with it. And the day's whatever I make it to be.

Somehow, I don't think I'll be able to make anything out of today. With the sleepless night behind me, and the exhausting day ahead, I'm already feeling miserable. The smell of coffee and the clicks of the pot are the only reasons I get up. I need some caffeine to get me through today.

A pounding headache is already starting around my temple, probably from lack of sleep, but I push back my covers anyway, forcing myself to rise from the bed. Once I've tugged on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt – it's early June, probably too warm for the outfit, but I don't care, I don't like looking at my arms – I wander in the direction of the kitchen, feet unsteady, head throbbing. Damn. If this is really what zombies feel like, who can blame them for terrorizing the populace, like in all those B-movies?

The sight of my mom bustling around the kitchen, back to me, stops me in my tracks.

How am I supposed to tell her? How can I just casually stroll in here and tell her that the man who abandoned her is back in town? That man is the reason for all her sleepless nights, the sound of her soft sobs carrying to me through the paper-thin walls in our piece-of-shit house. He took everything away from her – he took her heart, her life, her smile…for a little while, he even took me away, too, because I was too stupid and furious to care that I was killing her, too.

What am I even supposed to say? Do I ask her to sit down so I can talk without distraction or interruption, so I can look her in the eye? But how can I do that? How can I shatter her again? She's finally picking up the pieces from when he did. How can I do the same thing? Why couldn't he have just stayed away from us? I was doing fine without him, we both were. _Why_ does he think it's okay to come back, after years? Not a word, not even a goddamn letter, and he just comes strolling right back and he acts like everything should be okay with us, like he can't understand why I'm mad…

"Jim!" Her voice jerks me out of my reverie, and the smile on her lips cements it for me. I can't tell her. Not yet. The news might get around to her sometime, but for now, she's happy. And I can't ruin that.

"Hey," I force a small smile for her, crossing the kitchen to the cupboard and grabbing a plain white mug with a chipped handle. I feel like I should say something, but I'm too spent. I just set the mug down on the counter, filling it with coffee. I don't bother adding sugar, at the risk of diluting the caffeine. With the exhaustion, stress, and confusion, I figure I'll be needing it.

"How'd you sleep?"

I place the pot back on the stand, taking a sip from my mug. The hot liquid scorches the inside of my mouth, but at least it wakes me up. "Fine." She can't know about my dad, and I never actually told her about Silver – since Delbert promised he'd look out for me, he swore me to secrecy about all the dangerous happenings, and I guess Silver and his mutiny would count as a "dangerous happening". I mean, it was dangerous. I guess. At the time, I never thought of my own safety. I was too busy worrying about everything else.

She gives me a strange, sideways look – I guess my answers sounded kind of short, maybe impatient. If she starts trying to ask me questions, I'll never be able to keep this from her.

"So, how'd_ you_ sleep?" I hastily redirect her focus, leaning against the counter and foregoing the handle of the mug, cradling it in my hands instead. I welcome the blistering heat biting into my hands.

She clears her throat and turns to grab a dishcloth off the sink. "Alright."

"Anything I can do to get the inn up and running for the day?" I'd better chart a course out of here before she can question me any further.

Mom's face softens into a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, but all I need to do is wipe down the tables. You'd better eat something."

"Okay." I'm not hungry, but it's easier to just let her think I've eaten than argue the point with her. As she leaves the room, I take another sip or two of coffee, trying to drink quickly before it cools off any. I need the pain to wake me up. When I set the mug back down on the counter, my palms are pink and a little blistered. I barely notice the pain. There's too much else to think of. Why did my dad come back? And now that I'm a little more awake, I start thinking more about Silver, too – what's he doing here? He's a wanted man here, so why'd he choose this place for his hideout? There are a million questions I didn't even think to ask him when I was at his place yesterday… I swallow, looking down at the liquid swirling and sloshing around inside my mug. I set it down on the counter; suddenly, I don't feel like drinking it anymore. I need to see Silver again, talk to him, but I remain where I am, in the small wooden kitchen, staring down at the coffee in the cup.

Can't go to him, anyway. He told me to stay away today. Probably just wanted to get rid of me. Probably all that time away from me really cleared his head, and he doesn't want to be stuck with me again. The thought sends an uncomfortable sort of jolt through me, and I push off from the counter again, beginning to pace the kitchen. He told me before I left his place that we'd talk sometime later, but "later" is kind of a loose term. For a guy like him, "later" can mean several years down the road. I wonder if he's okay.

It's a stupid thing to think, because I just saw him, less than twenty-four hours ago, but I can't stop.

I grab my coffee off the counter and pour the rest down the drain, setting it down in the sink right after.

Suddenly, I want to get out of here. It's been a long time since I've felt this pressing need to escape; this desire to grab my solar surfer from my closet and shoot off into the sky, just stop caring and let someone else shoulder the burdens for a little while. It has been awhile since I was out on it…I cast a longing glance at the sky – gray and overcast, as always, but that actually makes it better. On days like these, when the wind blows your way and every breath of air smells like the constant rain, you can get so high that your skin goes numb and all your problems just sort of disappear. It was the only peace I got when I was fifteen; when you're the problem, it's kind of hard to escape.

I haven't done that in years, though – haven't even looked at the thing since I got accepted into Interstellar, and had to start settling down and focusing on my studies.

I shake off the thoughts and shoulder open the swinging door, preparing for the regular bustle of the inn.

* * *

I slip off at dusk; making my silent way up the narrow, dark stairway, I reach the relative safety of my room, running tired fingers through limp hair. But the day's not over yet. The sun's not even finished setting. I have time. So I push open the creaky, contrary closet doors, and I have to smile at the sight of the shining surfer buried within; it was almost as if it was waiting for me, all this time, and only now I've come back for it. The metallic surface glints under the fluorescent light, sending dancing patches of silvery light all around the room, winking at me as if to say _I've been waiting for you._

I kneel down on my bedroom floor, dragging it out of the closet; it makes a scraping noise against the wood, and it's heavier than I remember. In just three years, I've become unfamiliar with the weight; it used to be with me all the time. And just holding it again feels right. Once I've reached the window, I push open the glass pane, haul myself up onto the sill, and step onto the smooth, slick surface. It's a little hard to keep my balance, and I stumble several times, throwing my arms out for balance. Last thing I need is to fall and make a noise that will bring Mom or BEN in. I don't want Mom to see me on this thing again. I used to ride it with pride, but I don't want to see the disappointment flickering in her eyes when she sees a shard of the old me in my hands.

It takes a minute for me to regain my balance, but once I do, I press the on button with my heel, stamping on it, really, just like I used to when I was hungry for a power boost, needed to go high and fast and rough, needed to feel the danger.

Immediately, the solar surfer comes to life, whirring quietly like it had never gone unused a day in its life; there's something strangely kind about the sound, too, like it's welcoming me back.

And it takes off.

It's much, much faster than I remember. I mean, it's great, it's _amazing_. I haven't felt this alive in_ weeks_; but the speed is unsettling, almost, and I stumble again, hitting my knees and gripping the smooth, polished sides in my fingers, drawing rapid breaths. It's been way too long.

I slowly rise to my full height again, arms out at my sides for balance, and a breathless laugh rips out of my mouth; it's been _so long_, and it's even more exhilarating than I remember. The wind ruffles my hair, sends my clothes billowing out around me, steals my breath so I find myself gasping but grinning. It takes only a minute of gliding among the pink clouds to help me get the hang of things again, and when the craft threatens to slow, I step on the power button again, eager for an adrenaline rush. When the extra boost sends me spiraling upward, I don't fight it; instead, I go with it, angling myself toward the higher clouds, reaching up to run my fingers through the thin, vapory substance; all my problems slide off my shoulders, and for a minute, everything's okay again.

I've _missed_ this. _So, so much. _


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Overload **

**A/N: I sort of want cake. I have some chocolate cake somewhere, and I kind of want it. But I'm too lazy to get it. Also I have a headache, and sugar might make that worse. **

**As to the first version, you guys know the drill - I noticed some problems with the chapter, had to take it down and fix it. And that called for a revision of the last half. So. And this makes more sense, anyway. This is getting the plot going in the direction I want. As a side note, in "Treasure Planet: A Voyage of Discovery" they said Jim's dad is Leland Hawkins. So that kind of saved me from having to come up with a name for him instead. Leland works. Oh, which also - did you know Pleiades is actually a constellation? Isn't that adorable? I didn't know that until recently. I'm reading some research books on space and it was just a fun little fact. **

* * *

It takes me about an hour to find the yellow house again; the minute I spot the dirty, distant speck below, a burst of sunny color against a patchwork sea of green and brown, uncertainty and fear flood me in equal measure. I'm really not sure what I'm doing here. I shouldn't be here. If I actually go through with this…well, let's just say, I don't think my prior offenses will be anything to this.

But there's nothing else to do.

I can't let Mom or Doppler in on this; Doppler would freak out and Mom…well…like I said, I never actually let her know how dangerous the voyage to Treasure Planet really was. The only thing she knows is that there were a couple pirates who gave us trouble. I edited out the rest. And if the captain ever found out Silver was back here…damn. I don't even want to think about what she'd do.

And Silver _won't _tell me anything. I can't trust him to tell me the truth at this point. If I want any information about that guy at the window, or this place in general, I have to find it out for myself. And if that's what I have to do, then I will. I won't take no for an answer.

I angle myself downward, landing in an unkempt clump of trees; as the captain would say, it's not one of my gossamer landings, but the surfer isn't damaged at all, and if the worst thing I have to show for this is the rapidly forming bruise on my arm, I consider myself lucky.

I rise to my feet, pushing branches out of my face; I take a minute to dust off my solar surfer, wiping the glistening surface with my sleeve, before discarding it behind the nearest tree. Just in case. It's always good to have an escape route. With this settled, I begin pushing myself onward. I can't stop to think about what I'm going to do – if I let myself do that, I might get cold feet and call the whole thing off. So I don't pause, just plunge blindly through the trees, shouldering my way through the thick green growth; I curse the dense vegetation the whole way through, but when I break through the first line of the trees and see the yellow house only ten feet away, I have the urge to turn back and fight my way through the maze of shrubbery all over again.

Now that I'm not blundering around through the trees, I'm struck by how quiet everything is. Besides a faint, warm summer wind, just strong enough to rustle the leaves and set the forest whispering, the only sound is the occasional roar of thunder in the distance.

Beyond that, there's nothing to hear except my own breathing.

It's unsettling, but I force myself onward; the weird feeling I got from that guy at the window isn't enough to stop me, so a bit of quiet shouldn't be, either. I can do this.

The gate isn't locked when I reach it; the crumbling iron door swings open at a light touch of my hand, but the creak it makes is like nothing I've ever heard. I wait a minute, silent and breathless, to see if the sound roused anyone within, but there's no movement or sound from inside the house.

Maybe the place is deserted tonight. Or maybe I'm just lucky.

I slip through the gate's gap and into the yard. There are weeds everywhere, and some crumpled brown things every five feet that look like they might once have been flowers. I'm not what you'd call a gardener, so I can't tell – all I know is the sound they make when stepped on is really, really loud and it scares the hell out of me in all that silence.

I'm not sure what I'm looking for, but I don't bother pausing in the yard – there's nothing among the withered, brown blades of grass that can interest me, I'm sure, so I keep going, making my way, as quietly as I can, to the concrete porch. I want to pause, take a minute, breathe, calm myself down, but I don't. I can't. I'm this close. If I think about it too much, I might back out.

So I force myself over to one of the windows, tilting my head to peer inside, leaning over the sill as far as I can – I expect to feel the cool glass of the pane against my skin in moments, but I don't. The window's open.

The heat within is stifling, nearly unbearable; distantly, an electric fan is buzzing and whirring in an attempt to bring the temperature down, but it's not doing shit for the front room. The carpet is so stained and blackened, I can't even tell what color it's supposed to be anymore; there are a couple chairs set up in the room, grouped loosely in a circle around the stone fireplace, and they look empty.

I take a minute to scan every portion of the area that I can – make sure the yard is deserted, the trees undisturbed, the sky clear. And then I bring my knees up onto the windowsill and tumble out onto the carpet. I use the sill to haul myself up again, allowing my gaze to sweep every inch of the room. This part of the house is well and truly deserted, and by the looks of things, the rest of the place is, too. Actually, forget that – the way this place looks, it's been empty for years. But Silver's place looks like that, too, so I can't afford to trust appearances here.

I have to do this the old-fashioned way.

I cover the downstairs area first – those steps don't look like they can hold anything heavier than a feather – but I don't find any presence in the place besides mine. Unless you count the mold on the kitchen floor – that stuff looks ready to grow legs and attack somebody.

The stove is caked with a million different food particles, and they all look like they've been there since Flint knows when; there are no dishes in the sink, probably because it's so dirty on its own that no amount of soap could produce a clean plate from it. The counters look like they used to be imitation marble, but most of it's been chipped or scraped off.

Off the kitchen, there's a dark walk-in closet, but the clothes within are from BEN's time, at least, and there are only a few garments; the rest of the space is taken up entirely by stacks upon stacks of papers or folders. Each pile is so tall that it totters a bit, and it looks like just a touch of a finger will cause them to collapse. I hesitate before turning to go back the way I came; I need to scout out the rest of the place, make sure there's really no one here before I do anything else.

But even as I turn to do just that, a paper atop one stack catches my eye.

It's a picture of my dad.

_What is it doing here? _

It shouldn't stop me. I shouldn't pause. I shouldn't hesitate, or pick it up and look at it. But I do.

Dad's not looking at the camera in the photo; he's scribbling something on a piece of paper, and for the first time, I notice a touch of gray around his temples. There's something about the photograph, about the way Dad looks – tired and old and sad – that makes me keep looking. I might have seen him just yesterday, but I can't stop looking. Because I didn't really see him yesterday. If you know what I mean. I was so pissed off that I didn't really look at him. I trace my fingers over the photo again, letting my touch linger on the side of his face. I know I can worry about this later; I know I need to put this back, get upstairs, explore the rest of the house, but I just can't. I can't move.

I shouldn't want to keep staring, but I can't stop. What is it doing here? Why would this guy, whoever he is, have a picture of my dad?

A million thoughts race through my head with this question, but I banish them all. Silver's reluctance to speak of the man at the window, the unnerving feeling I got from him, it makes me think he's dangerous, but if he knows Dad...I mean, Dad's not a pirate or anything, Dad's not a bad person. I mean, I guess he would be considered a bad person, but he's never hurt anyone, never stolen anything or killed anyone. His sins are petty.

I force myself to lower the photo, prepared to tuck it back in its original place – but again, something stops me.

Because the photo was hiding a folder. And this wouldn't be anything worth noting, except for the words splashed on the front.

_LELAND HAWKINS. _

This time, I don't hesitate before picking it up. Papers start spilling out of it immediately, some handwritten, some printed…and some aren't papers. Some are more pictures. In one, he looks like he's laughing, talking to somebody just out of sight; he's not looking at the camera, again.

In another, he's raising a bottle to his lips. The next one shows him taking a tray out of an oven. It's all useless, meaningless snippets of his life, and none of it matters. So why would anyone photograph it?

As if looking for an answer, I turn my gaze instead to the papers, scanning the words rapidly; upon seeing how much is crammed onto one page, I originally intend to skim, but after a minute, I realize they're talking about his life. What planet he was born on. How he met Mom. Why they moved to Montressor. How old he was when Mom had me. How old he was when he left.

I'm not skimming anymore.

I don't know what I expect to find, but this page in my hand is more than he's ever told me before, so I don't stop reading.

At least not until I hear the front door slam open.


End file.
